Crimson Flowers
by NightShadow131
Summary: Legolas loved and hated the smell of flowers, for they reminded him of that painful day.


**Disclaimer**: I don't own LotR. As always…

I entered this into the Teitho (on the Mellon Chronicles site for those of you who might not know) contest for Smells. It didn't win, of course, but at least I tried… I guess. It was kinda funny 'cause I thought of the idea while watering the flowers at work and had to write the idea down right away before it slipped my mind. Out of all my fics, I still haven't written one about this and that kinda surprised me, lol. Anyway, I'm just glad to be writing again, and quite a bit. :D

Hope you enjoy! Don't forget to let me know what ya think _please_!

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**Crimson Flowers**

"Legolas, run!" she yelled desperately, her voice already strained as the pain threatened to overwhelm her.

Wide, blue eyes stared in shock as the orc pushed its blade deeper into the soft flesh, viciously pulling it back out in triumph, its mouth set in a wicked grin.

"No," he whispered in disbelief before looking up at his mother's face in horror. Her beautiful face was crumpled in pain, pale and strained as she tried to summon the strength to help her only son.

Vaguely, he heard battle shouts and the clang of steel surrounding him, but all he could focus on was his mother collapsing and the orc that stood above her.

"No!" he suddenly shouted, snapping out of his trance. Readying his twin knives, he charged the fell creature.

Quickly killing it, he dropped to his knees beside his mother. She smiled lovingly up at him; her bright blue eyes dulled by agony before she took one last shuddering breath and closed her eyes forever.

Tears made their way down his cheeks and onto hers; his hands hovering over her, unsure and trembling.

The wind swept through and whipped some of her long golden hair over her face. Ignoring his own, Legolas gently pushed the strands aside, his deft fingers brushing the petals of a flower on the opposite side of her face.

Suddenly, a fierce anger flooded through him and he found himself cursing nature and the weather for being so beautiful on this most tragic day.

"Naneth…" he brokenly whispered as he leaned down and lovingly kissed her farewell.

The prince's fair face twisted into a mask of hatred and grief. The tears continued to fall as he picked up his knives and shot up off the ground, charging into the fray; his clouded senses noted his father falling where he had stood not a minute ago.

Legolas shook his head to rid himself of such devastating memories, breathing in the summer air, the sweet smell of flowers and the earthy trees assailing his senses as the breeze carelessly tossed fallen blossoms.

And he grimaced.

He loved and hated the smell of flowers, for they reminded him of that painful day.

At first, he had loathed going outside during that time of year—when the elegant flowers and trees were in full bloom. It had gotten easier with time but some days… Today was one of those days.

As he stared at the pale pink and blue and yellow flowers swaying in the wind, crimson splashed across his vision.

He nearly fell to his knees as his dead mother flashed before him again, lying lifeless on the ground, her pained cry ricocheting in the walls of his memory. Her fun-loving, lighthearted nature and pearly laughter had been forever snuffed out that day.

He closed his eyes tightly in anguish, his hands clenched at his sides as he tried to dispel his torturous thoughts once again.

He missed her.

It didn't help that they had stopped so close to the spot where he had finally been able to track her down that day, on this date ten years ago exactly. Ten years was like a blink of an eye to the long-lived race and the memory was very vivid and painful. He had been _just_ too late that day and he would never forget that.

The blonde elf startled when a gentle hand was suddenly placed on his shoulder, and he snapped his eyes wide at the touch.

"What is it, mellon-nin?" Estel asked softly, concern in his stormy eyes.

The elf had seemed quiet and recluse since they had taken a short break for their afternoon meal. Legolas had met up with him on his way to Mirkwood for a visit once the elf had received word of his travels since he hadn't seen his friend in a long while. Estel was excited when he had run into Legolas, happy at the surprise. Legolas' attitude had changed dramatically within the day that they had been together and it worried him greatly.

"Nothing," Legolas automatically answered, wincing at the raw emotion he heard in his voice, unable to conceal it because of the deep hurt scorching through him.

Estel made a face at Legolas, although the archer was facing away from him, trying to hide whatever was bothering him.

"I can tell something is hurting you, Legolas," he encouraged, watching him closely.

Legolas was silent as he stared at nothing, flashes of unforgiving memories licking through his tormented mind.

"The flowers…" the blonde answered in a whisper, refusing to meet the man's gaze.

Being a wood-elf, Legolas loved nature and being surrounded by it; yet his crestfallen mood was caused by it…? Estel tilted his head in confusion.

Legolas finally turned to look at his friend and the man blanched at the heartbroken look in blue eyes.

"My mother…"

And really, that was all that needed to be said.

"Forgive me," Estel said contritely, pulling Legolas into a tight hug. He couldn't believe he had forgotten the date. He should have waited a few more days before leaving Imladris so as not to interrupt his friend's mourning period. He knew that the pain of her loss would never leave the elf.

"The smell reminds me of that day," the young elf continued into the man's neck, his eyes welling-up with unshed tears.

Estel closed his eyes in despair, holding Legolas closer. It explained so many other times over the years when Legolas had suddenly stopped and taken on a sad expression in the garden. And he had no idea what to say.

After minutes of silence passed, Estel loosened his hold on Legolas but didn't let go completely. "Let us set-up camp for the night," he suggested soothingly. He knew it was early yet, for they still had at least another four hours of daylight, but Legolas was an emotional wreck and he felt it would be best for him to relax for the remainder of the day, to help sort out his distressed thoughts.

The young elf was quiet in his arms long enough to raise the man's worry before he suddenly leaned back, tilting his head to the side in thought. Finally, in a whisper, he requested, "I wish to go a little further."

Estel frowned but nodded without hesitation. He was unsure of the reason, but whatever it was, it was important to his friend. Based on previous behavior, he suspected it had something to do with the prince's mother, and he would do everything within his power to try and quell that hurt.

Both companions were lost within their own thoughts but Estel rode next to Legolas, keeping a close eye on him. He was worried, for the archer seemed distracted, on edge and had paled a few shades as they continued.

Not five minutes later, Legolas came to a stop, his eyebrows knitted in pain.

Estel looked around at their surroundings in confusion, wondering at his friend's sudden reaction, the area seemed normal enough to his eyes…

Legolas dismounted and slowly approached the area with trepidation.

It was the same as that terrible day, lovely as ever, even though his insides were twisted in knots. He hadn't allowed himself to come here since his mother's death and he had to force himself to kneel before the place where she had lain lifeless seemingly just yesterday.

He could still see her, still see the blood. It was everywhere—on the soft blades of grass, on the peaceful flowers, and on him. Everything was stained with a deep red.

He felt the anger of that day rise up in him. It had been a beautiful day just like this: the sun shone brightly, the songs of birds and nature surrounding them, and the trees and flowers dancing with the wind to their tune right before the attack.

But the most beautiful thing in _his_ world had been cruelly taken from him.

Legolas clenched his fists tightly as he tried to still the urge within to rip out the pretty flower that stood in front of him innocently, reminding him.

Estel stayed silent while watching Legolas with a look of concern and helplessness.

He hated seeing his friend so miserable.

Then, the elf's graceful features distorted with anger and hatred before him. Never had he seen such an expression on the usually gentle young elf, and it frightened him.

The man gasped, jumping from his horse to be beside his friend to lend him comfort, to pull him out of whatever dark thoughts his mind had strayed to, to save him from this awful rage and pain.

"Legolas…" he started slowly, placing a gentle hand on the prince's shoulder.

He was shocked when blue eyes, darkened by tragedy, turned to him. Legolas had tears streaming freely down his face as silent sobs wracked his body, unable and not caring to stop them.

The archer fell forward; his hands pounding the earth, narrowly missing the mocking flower.

Startled by this unusual behavior, Estel only stared at his friend at a loss. His anger, guilt, hurt and sadness were so profound that it brought the proud prince to his knees and made him lose control. This was a rare side to Legolas that he had previously only had tiny glimpses of and he wished that he had no reason to show him it; that he wasn't in so much heart-wrenching pain that he needed to.

All this ran through his mind in a manner of seconds before he instantly plucked Legolas up off the ground and pulled him into a tight embrace, trapping the wood-elf's arms against his sides to stop his abuse.

At first, Legolas struggled against the restraint as he continued to silently sob, muttering insults that made no sense into Estel's chest.

Estel merely held his friend tightly against him, riding out Legolas' pain with him as he slowly rocked him. Estel was by no means weak, but Legolas was an elf and, as such, could have easily knocked the man aside. That he didn't was reassuring in itself.

Eventually, Legolas' half-hearted attempts to break free of the man's calming embrace ceased and he lay limply against Estel, his body shaking with the aftermath of his hysteria.

The two stayed locked together for an indeterminable amount of time in quiet comfort as Estel soothingly rubbed Legolas' back.

"Forgive me," Legolas broke the silence with his whispered plea, startling the man he still leaned against for support. He felt foolish for his behavior, for not being able to control his emotions, for taking it out on Estel. He was grateful for the man's presence since it helped soothe his grievous heart, but he wished he hadn't had to witness his breakdown.

Estel jumped into action before his friend's thoughts could go any further and he placed his hands on both of the elf's arms. Pushing him back at arm-length, he forced Legolas to look at him and locked steel grey with glossy blue.

"Nay, Legolas, do not apologize, or ask forgiveness when you did _nothing_ wrong," Estel firmly stated, his hands squeezing for emphasis.

Legolas swallowed thickly and turned his head to the side to stare at nothing in guilt—guilt for not saving his mother, guilt for placing this upon his closest friend, guilt for his anger at the beauty surrounding him.

Estel's heart cried out for Legolas and he nearly shook the elf when he turned away. Instead, he released one arm and gently placed his hand on Legolas' chin, slowly turning him back towards him.

"Let go of your guilt, mellon-nin," he urged softly. He had briefly been told the story of how she had died and had heard the guilt coating the description back then. However, he knew that if there had been anything the prince could have done to save her, he would have done it; no matter the cost.

"But if I—"

"No, Legolas let it go," the man interrupted the rebuttal with conviction. "You did all you could."

Legolas was quiet for a long time after, deep in thought. He didn't break his truthful gaze with the man at first, but then he caught a glimpse of something moving in his peripheral vision past Estel's shoulder. His eyes distractedly flicked to the side to inspect it, and he froze at the sight.

It was the same flower that he had almost crushed, and he started to wrench his eyes away but something held them. As he continued to stare, he noticed that the petals were the soft, pastel blue of his mother's eyes.

The flower swayed in the comforting breeze and it was as though he could hear her voice on the wind, reassuring him.

He closed his eyes as he listened, a slight smile gracing his features.

Estel had frowned at the way Legolas' body had tensed after he had shifted his gaze and had almost pulled his friend's attention back to him when a sudden look of contentment washed over Legolas' face.

Grey eyes softened in relief, hoping that Legolas had been able to come to terms at last, or that he was on his way at least. He had no idea what had suddenly brought about this change but he wasn't about to question it.

After a few more minutes, Legolas opened his eyes and looked at the man in appreciation.

He grinned widely at Estel, more at peace than he had been for a very long time as the gentle breeze played with his hair, bringing with it the sweet scent of the flowers.


End file.
